


a masterpiece in lilac

by ephemeralstar



Series: i write sins and tragedies [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bisexual Foggy Nelson and his Queerplatonic Asexual Soulmates, Foggy-Centric, Multi, Probably ooc, Queerplatonic OT3, Queerplatonic Relationships, The Matrix References, angsty ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 06:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6600109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralstar/pseuds/ephemeralstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I had always just assumed that red was just something people made up to sound pretentious, the same way that most people like to ignore that Shakespeare's plays were full of dick jokes." Foggy's rambling now, he's well aware, but Karen's lips are pink and stretched into a grin, and Matt's smiling despite the red bruises on his knuckles. <i>Huh.</i> Foggy hadn't noticed that before. He'd ask later. "Christmas colours have always been green and grey, for me, red was right out of the question. <i>Until I met you.</i>"</p>
            </blockquote>





	a masterpiece in lilac

**Author's Note:**

> " _au where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate | ADDITIONALLY: when your soulmate dies, the world goes back to black and white_ "
> 
> OT3 stylez; you get two of the three primary colours when you first meet someone, and then you'll get the third when you meet the third.

As soon as he discovered the wonder of colours, Foggy decides that blue is his favourite.

He’s not expecting anyone when there comes a knock at his door, so his words come out almost a thoughtless mess when he’s faced with this man and his baggy sweater who makes the world around him light up with colour for the first time in his life. He doesn’t know who this guy is or what he wants, but Foggy’s whole world had shifted from the moment the man walked in, and he hopes, he _prays_ , that the guy won’t just walk out again. The guy turns out to be his new roommate, Matt Murdock, as it turned out, a name Foggy recognised from his own childhood and he all but leaps off the bed to shake his hand in welcome. There are worse ways to meet your soulmate, and there are _definitely_ worse soulmates in the world; Foggy’s not going to make it weird, he’s _not_.

But it is weird, because Matt doesn’t say anything about it and Foggy’s waiting for some sort of reaction until the silence stretches between them, Matt looking sort of uncomfortable. The realisation that maybe Matt just doesn’t _know_ hits Foggy like a ton of bricks. His heart beats painfully against his ribs as he wonders if he should say anything, if it would be weird not to. All he knows is that Matt Murdock is his soulmate and he’s never seen anything as beautiful as that baggy sweater.

Rambling fills the silence and the tension in the room goes down, even if Foggy’s mouth is moving faster than his mind, which is firmly stuck of the disgusting image of a man who's _actually_ had his eyes knocked out. Before he knows it, he’s blurting out, “You’re just a really, _really_ good looking guy.” And _wow, OK_ , even in context that sounds bad. Matt’s face drops while Foggy tries to backpedal, “I mean, girls must love the whole.. Wounded, handsome, duck-thing, am I right?” His heart aches just a little bit at the thought that maybe his soulmate is straight, but he doesn’t dwell on it. Matt’s smile and almost self-conscious head dip make Foggy grin and he adds, “Nice sweater, by the way.” He’s trying - and failing - to appear nonchalant, and apparently Matt can tell, as there’s the barest hint of a smirk on his lips.

“I’ve been told it’s blue.” He adds, nothing subtle about his tone, and Foggy breathes a sigh of relief. Colour might not be the only thing that alerts your to your soulmate’s presence, colour was a good indicator, but the swooping sensation in his gut, the _elation,_ wasn’t exclusive to him. There was something about Matt that was so comforting, so familiar, like coming home after a long day that so clearly meant they were soulmates. No matter what Matt’s orientation was, the universe wanted to them to be together, platonically or romantically it didn’t matter, so long as they were together.

* * *

Life becomes a blur of blue, green and gold, it’s there in the way the sun shines, the way the oceans sparkle and it’s there in his six teal t-shirts and lime green jeans that he didn’t realise he owned. He wears the colours proudly because they’re _his_ in this world of things all bright and new, and he thinks they’re gorgeous. He loves the colours and he loves Matt, but there’s an itch in the back of his mind that he can’t quite put his finger on, and sometimes it goes away, but it feels as though he’s being left out of the loop when other people explain purple when all he sees is blue.

“I thought about getting it in green, but red’s traditional.” Josie’s voice greets where he’s staring up at her neon sign, seeing nothing but grey and white against the darkness. Matt’s back at their dorm, studying, but Foggy needed a break and found himself where he always finds himself after midnight in the city. Josie never seemed like the type to talk about something as personal as colours, she’d never given any indication before, she didn’t really seem like the type.

“That’s red?” Curious, he frowned up at the sign, though Josie did little more than hum in confirmation. “I don’t see it.” Admitting as much was to finally put a finger on his problem. His life had turned to art before his eyes and yet the women still wore lipstick in shades of grey and sickly shadow that sometimes crept up Matt’s cheeks was actually a blush.

“I thought you and Murdock were-” Understandably confused, she makes a vague gesture. The moment he and Matt had walked into her bar, Foggy declared the pooltable to have the coolest green felt he had ever seen, and Matt laughed, hand on Foggy’s arm like it always was when they went about the city together, looking nothing so much as a young, boisterous couple. Josie knew better than to assume such things of them, but she was asking about soulmates and she wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah, no, we are.” Both of them knew what some of the regulars - few and far between, thankfully - had to say on that subject, scathing glares laced with distaste leveled at Matt and Foggy, Josie threatening to kick people out when drunken slurs were snarled in their direction. It was jarring to Foggy, who had confidently labeled himself as ‘ _bisexual_ ’ since high school - _since he saw Keanu Reeves in_ The Matrix _if you want to get specific_ \- and when he met Matt, it never occurred that he should feel anything other than joy.

“Maybe ‘cos Murdock’s-” Josie’s making a vague gesture towards her face when Foggy makes a dismissive noise in the back of his throat without really thinking. He knows what he’s referring to, but she’s _wrong_ , damnit.

“That’s not fair, it doesn’t make any sense.” The words slip out without thinking and he suddenly feels very ungratefully. He’s got his sight, he’s got some of the most beautiful colours in the world, and most importantly, he has Matt. _But he hasn’t got red_ , his traitorous mind reminds him, which is how he _knows_ he’s being ungrateful. Josie cut's off his stammered apology by clapping him on the shoulder.

“Life’s not fair.” She offers in return, and the two part ways, Josie back to the bar, and Foggy back to his dorm. Matt listens patiently to Foggy’s gripe, though Foggy suspects he’s zoned out and is reading, the way his hands are skimming over the pages of his book. It’s good to just be able to talk, anyhow.

“It’s just weird, I assumed I’d get all of them.” He paused. Matt doesn’t ask. “Colours, I mean.” Clarifying for no-one, he wiggles in his bed, trying to find a more comfortable seating position. Matt puts his book aside, standing to get changed into his pyjamas. “Josie thinks it’s because you're blind.” Frown on his face, Foggy waits for Matt’s reaction, something about how ‘ _that’s not how it works’_ or maybe Foggy’s just weird, instead, he shuffles over and presses a kiss to the top of Foggy’s head.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured. Foggy’s taken aback by his words, discontent painfully obvious on his face which he’s glad that Matt can’t see. He caught Matt’s hand, trying to will his bitter thoughts away.

“‘s not your fault.” Foggy assures him, squeezing his hand reassuringly. This one tiny flaw goes unspoken between them for a long time and Foggy tries his hardest not to think about it, it’s not his fault, it’s not Matt’s fault, sometimes the universe is just broken like that.

* * *

They fit into each other’s lives seamlessly, the way they move, the way they speak, it’s as if they’ve known each other their whole lives. They’re so clearly soulmates that Foggy realises he should have suspected the unsavoury rumours that would follow them after only a few weeks of classes. When it comes to each other, they love as easily as they breathe, in the way that you love you can love your best friend. Matt’s asexual and has never really been interested in sex of any sort, but he enjoys platonic contact more than even Foggy, which does little to quell the allegations, but they’re _not_ dating… They’re also not _not_ dating, which is confusing to everyone else, but they’re best friends, and that’s all that matters to them, everyone else can believe what they want.

OK, so maybe Foggy’s a little bitter, but it’s been a particularly trying afternoon, between a full day of classes and that cute girl from his Punjabi class asking him invasive questions about him and Matt, he’s left feeling uncomfortable and wanting a nap. He kisses the top of Matt’s head in greeting and swans across the room to flop unceremoniously onto his bed. Matt’s a good listener, and offers reassuring words when Foggy mentions the girl, smiling kindly at his soulmate over his textbook. Foggy just groans, but he’s smiling and is already starting to feel better from just being around Matt. They decide to grab drinks at Josie’s anyways, Foggy smiling to himself when he realises that, _yeah_ , this is his life now. All things considered, it’s pretty great.

* * *

"What's pink look like?" Josie’s is a safe haven from constant stress of college, and Josie is his saviour. The whole world is fuzzy. His beer is mostly warm.

"I don't remember." She said, simply. She doesn’t smile.

* * *

Foggy began university with his long hair, and an obsession with The Matrix, he graduated with a diploma, a soulmate, and an obsession with The Matrix. Junior year of highschool was when it started, but the movie had been with him through the best of times and the worst, it was the only constant in his life apart from Matt. He’d seen it more times than was strictly healthy, but every time he had to pretend as though he wasn’t disappointed during the ‘Lady in Red’ scene, which was especially tough now that he knew he was truly missing out on something. It’s clear that thought was given to the colourblind audience, with extras as a sea of beige and pale grey through which the Lady glided, clearly meant to catch the eye, even if you couldn’t tell one colour from another. He loved the movie, he loved the scene, but to him she was just a Lady in Grey.

 _Nelson & Murdock _ had been operating for a full seven hours before Foggy met his own Lady in Grey, Karen Page, and he remembers her grey sweater like he remember’s Matt’s blue one, and he thinks it’s a sign. To him, everything is a sign, ascribing meaning where there was none, as if he should have _known_ that that was the day they were destined to meet. As the lead suspect in a homicide case, Foggy realised that _this_ was one of the worst ways to meet your soulmate, letting Matt go in to talk to her as he tried to get any information he could from Brett, who was being obstinate. There’s nothing but silence when he joins them, and Matt holds Foggy’s gaze _very seriously_.

“Who the Hell are you guys?” There’s an unexpected edge to the woman’s voice and Foggy finally tears his eyes away from Matt’s restrained but panicked expression, only to realise the source barely a moment later. Karen’s eyes are bluer than he’s ever seen, wide and confused, her lips, _her beautiful, red lips,_ parted in shock _._ Foggy’s stomach is in freefall.

“I’m Matt. He’s Foggy.” Matt supplied, easily in the silence. Foggy’s grateful that he takes the lead, unsure if he had the capacity to form words just yet. None of them mention how the world has suddenly shifted, but the impending murder trial keeps them busy, and most importantly _together._ People wonder why they’re so blindingly determined to prove her innocence when the evidence is piled up against her, but they refuse to talk about it. It’s not the time, nor the place.

But then it’s over, _mostly,_ and Karen’s safe, _mostly,_ and they’re all alright, _mostly_. Inviting her to work for them is easy, it’s natural, it feels right. Foggy likes it when the three of them are all together, and it’s not until a few weeks later that Karen actually says anything. He hadn’t thought it would take this long.

“This is going to sound… pretty weird,” when Karen leads with _that_ , it doesn’t bode well for Foggy, who puts down his bagel and turns his full attention to her. Wringing her hands together, she’s clearly nervous about what she wants to say, but spits it out anyway, “I think one of you is my soulmate.” There’s a pause and she reevaluates. “Well, no, I _know_ one of you is my soulmate, but I’m just… confused as to which.”

“What do you mean?” Foggy’s expression is curious, not unkind, which seems to ease Karen’s mind a fraction.

“Can either of you… you know… see colour?” She asked, voice laced with hope. It’s met with silence.

“No.” Matt chimes in finally, straight faced. “But probably not for the same reasons.” His words startle a laugh from both Karen and Foggy, and the grin that breaks out over Matt’s face is warm and kind.

“It’s complicated,” Foggy begins, trying to work through his thoughts so they made sense before he spoke them, “but I think… we both are.” Karen looks hesitant, but allows him to elaborate. “Matt’s my soulmate,” he doesn’t wait for her to react because he can see her nodding with acceptance, which makes him feel both a little bit proud and a little bit bitter, as though nothing had changed since college, “we met in our first week of college and I’ve been seeing colour ever since; colour,” hand raised to quell her interruption, he continued, “except for red. I had always just assumed that red was just something people made up to sound pretentious, the same way that most people like to ignore that Shakespeare's plays were full of dick jokes." Foggy's rambling now, he's well aware, but Karen's lips are pink and stretched into a grin, and Matt's smiling despite the red bruises on his knuckles. _Huh_. Foggy hadn't noticed that before. He'd ask later. "Christmas colours have always been green and grey, for me, red was right out of the question.  _Until I met you_." He offered, simply. Karen and Matt are both regarding him with faint, affectionate smiles that make him feel warm and he ducks his head just a bit. "I know it would be different, meeting us both at the same time, but I gotta assume it was like that, even if it was just for a few minutes.” Karen’s quiet for a long moment, looking down at her hands before she looked back, staring into the middle distance between the two men.

“It was definitely strange,” she agreed, “a life of black and white, being charged with murder and out of the blue… my soulmates come and give me colour… believe my story and give me hope.” Swallowing thickly she shut her eyes tight. “Matt, seeing you meant I was seeing reds and oranges and _golds_ , it was… incredible. Then I saw you,” she opened her eyes, fixing her gaze on Foggy with a smile, which he returns wholeheartedly, “and everything was in technicolour.” Gaze dropping to her feet, she makes an uncertain face. “What… what does this mean for us?” She gestured between the three of them.

“She’s gesturing to all of us.” He explained to Matt without thinking, and it’s Matt who fills in the silence.

“It means whatever you want it to mean.” He offered, Karen’s expression easing. “We’re a pretty unique case, all things considered, so we have the freedom to figure it out as we go.” Karen engulfs them all in a hug after he finishes and Foggy can’t help but grin.

Blue is still his favourite colour, but it was a snap decision, based on Matt, based on Matt’s _sweater_ , which he still loves and he knows Matt still owns because Foggy loves it, but he didn’t have all of the evidence. Foggy thought that maybe if he had found himself in a different set of circumstances, if Matt wasn’t his roommate, if he hadn’t quit _Landman & Zack _ he would have to live his life in black and white. He knows this is ridiculous, he still would have seen Matt in class and he still would have hated working for _Landman & Zack _ , and all of Foggy’s hypotheticals end in this one moment, in Foggy, Matt and Karen. ‘ _Perfect_ ’ is a label he ascribes to only a handful of moment, but apart from meeting Matt, this one outshines them all. Blue may be his favourite colour, but he won’t deny that he’s begun to favour purple too.

* * *

Discovering Matt's secret double life as a crime fighting vigilante was without a doubt the worst thing that ever happened to him. He absolutely abhors the way in which things begin to make sense, all of Matt’s injuries, his evasiveness; he owes so much to Claire for everything she does for Matt, but he hates what she represents, the secrets Matt’s kept from his _soulmates_ . Claire, for her part, knows enough not to asks questions, even when there’s a million running through Foggy’s mind. His hands are shaking. Red, he decides, is an ugly colour; Matt’s blood is everywhere and it’s so _bright_. He feels as though it’s all he can see when he realises that the rest of his colours are slowly fading. Realising what this means, he finds himself throwing up in the bathroom, not even giving himself time to think before he’s washing his face and offering help in any way he can.

Karen calls and it hurts to pretend like he doesn’t know what’s going on, like he can’t see Matt slowly dying on the sofa in front of him. Her colours are fading too, he knows before he answers, and it takes him a moment to answer, to stop the shaking of his hands.

"What's happening? Are you and Matt OK?" She sounds so scared and frightened that Foggy has to take a moment before he can answer her.

"I'm... OK, I think." He managed, there’s a tremor in his voice that he can’t disguise. "I don't know about Matt." He admitted, it’s the truth, but it feels like a lie. Karen’s noise of distress makes his heart ache. “I can try calling him.” He offers. Matt’s expression is pained, but he’s still unconscious. Karen hangs up but Foggy doesn’t move. Claire made it clear that she works best without him hovering around, instead, he takes Matt’s phone from the coffee table and throws it into his bedroom, where Karen’s calls are free to ring out in peace. She gives up after an hour, but sends Foggy a worried text.

< _It’s going to be OK._ > He sends. She doesn’t seem convinced, but the other colours have slowly started to return to his vision, so she must be at least placated.

“He is going to be OK, right?” As if his sight isn’t answer enough, he’s still nervous to hear Claire’s answer. She looks over to where Matt’s sleeping on the sofa. He doesn’t look comfortable, but he’s also no longer dying. Probably.

“He’ll pull through.” She told him, and he does. When he wakes, Foggy is _livid_ . It’s a struggle for Foggy to keep his voice level when all he wants to do is scream. Anger and fear bleed through, loud and clear in Foggy’s tone, Matt looks genuinely remorseful which just makes things _worse_ as it breaks Foggy’s heart just that little bit more. He feels stupid and naive to have believed that his _soulmate_ wouldn’t lie to him, yet here he is. He doesn’t say that, he hesitates after even thinking it because despite the lies, he still believes in Matt’s heart and his intentions, though they better be _damn_ good.

“It isn’t about _just_ you anymore!” Foggy doesn’t know where the words came from but in his outrage, he’s managed to articulate his main fear. The silence that follows hurts more than words ever could. “You were dying on that sofa, Matt, you were dying right before my eyes. I know it. _Karen_ knows it.” Breath caught in his throat, his voice is quiet, _betrayed_ . “The universe wants us to know that you’re OK, that you’re there. We’ll always know if you’re not.” _Deep breaths; in and out. In and out_ . Matt - _and therefore the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen_ \- has his heart in the right place, and it’s reassuring for Foggy to know that, but it also makes things worse. Foggy wants to leave, he really does, but instead he stays the night to help Matt, getting him water, calling Karen and assuring her that everything is alright, even though it’s definitely _not_. His old worries of Matt falling into an open manhole or accidentally catching a bus out of town pale in comparison to the realisation that he’s made a habit of beating up gangs and taking out corrupt cops.

“Look, I’m not asking you to stop saving people.” Foggy finally relented, “I’m just asking you to _think_ before you decide to beat up police officers on camera.” Matt’s silent, Foggy doesn't know what to say next, so he stays by Matt’s side, and they go an hour with silence between them. Matt’s always listened to him, so the least he can do is grant the same courtesy, he listens, gets aspirin, and orders Chinese for the two of them, putting Matt’s in the fridge when he claims he’s not hungry. They’re soulmates, for better or worse.

"You can't tell Karen." They’re both lying awake, Matt’s voice weak in the darkness of the apartment. Foggy agrees, but neither of them are happy with it.

* * *

Life moves on. The week that follows Foggy’s departure from Matt’s apartment is quite honestly the longest week of his life. He needs time to breathe, to _think_ , even though he knows he doesn’t have the heart to stay mad at him. It only takes Foggy a few days to realise they’ve never gone more than a two days without speaking to each other since that first week of college and he has to stop himself every half an hour or so from picking up the phone and dialling Matt’s number. He calls Karen instead, tells her the two of them are dealing with things, waves it off as leftover fights from college, only now coming to a head. She sounds unconvinced, but lets him know that Matt’s been wanting to see him.

Hearing Matt’s voice is like a breath of fresh air that he’s been desperately craving, though things had gotten worse before they had gotten better, Matt’s here now, he’s safe, Foggy can breathe again. There’s a lump in Foggy’s throat when Matt apologises and they hold one another like a lifeline. Karen’s smile is shaky, but she holds the two of them close when she realises that everything OK again, well, not ‘ _OK_ ’, but as OK as things could get in this world, this life they’ve created for themselves. That hug, _these people_ feel more like home than his little apartment ever could.

However the universe demands suffering, and as much as he loves Karen, he and Matt agreed that she couldn’t know his secret. They hate it, hate the lies, hate keeping their soulmate in the dark, but she’s safe and that’s all that matters. She’ll figure it out eventually, they know it goes without saying, and they brace for the day she finally does. She comes close, moments and midnights spent in the ER, holding Foggy’s hand and listening to the heart monitor. It doesn’t happen often.

“Where does he go?” Looking to Foggy, her eyes are wide, greying around the edges as they do whenever Matt’s injuries are serious enough for him to be admitted to hospital. “Stairs don’t bruise like that.” She whispers into Foggy’s shoulder as he holds her close, frowning, trying to make it all make sense in her head, even with all the missing pieces still out of her reach. Foggy stays silent.

Not showing up for days at a time becomes a habit of Matt’s, and while Foggy does his best to rescue him, sometimes Matt just doesn’t want to be found. Those days are the worst, days spent in a haze at the office, nights spent with Karen in his apartment, eating takeout and watching the news. Karen doesn’t know why he does it, but she knows enough to realise when Foggy’s not telling her things. Watching the news together becomes a habit, as does staying up half the night worrying. Foggy’s apartment is small where Matt’s is huge, but Matt’s also the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and he doesn’t want Karen around that, so the three of them - _Matt when he’s around_ \- learn to move about Foggy’s apartment with ease. Foggy gets a bigger bed and fits it with a spare set of Matt’s silk sheets, and the three of them fall asleep together when they can. Neither Matt nor Karen are interested in sex in any capacity, but it’s nice to fall asleep watching bad sitcoms with the people you love.

“He’ll come back. He always does.” Foggy whispers into the darkness. When Matt’s not around, the bed feels too big for just Foggy and Karen, who lie awake scared half to death that their colours will fade away completely overnight. Karen holds his hand just a bit tighter.

Heart racing, one morning Foggy awakes to nothing but _red_ , even the sky outside. His immediate reaction was that maybe it’s a fire, maybe it’s the Avengers, maybe it’s another alien invasion, _anything_ to let him delude himself until he turns on the news. His face goes slack, horrified at the sight of _all that blood_ , and the single body in the streets. They keep playing the clip over and over again, the police officers refusing to comment as they load the corpse into an ambulance. It’s playing even as Karen wakes, panicking and calling for Matt. Foggy doesn’t move and she’s _so scared_ , so confused as to why he can’t stop watching this feed about the ‘ _The Death of The Devil_ ’. He knows when it clicks because she let’s out a wail that resonates within his bones and she kicks away his laptop so violently that it hits the floor. The crack of the screen is loud but he doesn’t care. Taking Karen into his arms, they cry together.

* * *

The funeral is quiet. Not a lot of people come; a few grateful clients, the Father from Matt’s church, Claire. ‘ _Officially_ ’ they’re saying he was murdered in a mugging gone wrong, but Foggy knows, Karen knows, _Claire_ knows. Everything feels so constricting, from the pitying glances of the attendants to the black suit he pulled from the back of his wardrobe. Colours have all become pretty much the same to him now, but he _knows_ the suit is black, and wants to burn it as soon as he can.

He and Karen break down only minutes after it begins. No-one begrudges them as they cling to each other, too distraught to make it through the service. The tree they collapse beneath is as far from the funeral as they could get, and Foggy notices that her dress is the colour of wine, the colour of blood. Her eyes red-rimmed. These are things he knows for certain, and he tells her as much.

“I thought it was black.” Voice hoarse, she sniffled as Foggy shook his head, “Doesn’t matter. I’m getting rid of it after this.” She told him, so certain, so _sure_. They agree to burn these outfits when they get the chance. Above them the sun has dipped below the horizon, and a chill has been set in the air. They lie on the grass, space enough for one more person between them, though it feels like miles. They can’t bring themselves to close the gap.

“It’s blue.” Karen chokes out, breathing shaky, “It’s all blue and I hate it.” Foggy’s heart twists in his chest, the pain in her voice only making him feel worse.

“I keep thinking that maybe I’ve left Hell’s Kitchen and just ended up in Hell.” He admits voice hoarse from crying, “It’s red, Karen, he’s gone and all that’s left is red.” Mind flashing to all the times he wished, just _wished_ , for a glimpse of that colour, it left a bitter taste in his mouth. _This is what you wanted_ , his mind snarls, but _no, I just want_ Matt. Karen takes his hand in hers, she’s crying too.

 

Between them, they picture a lilac sky.


End file.
